


pour some sugar on me.

by idkspookystuff



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Recreational Drinking, Strong Language, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-13 16:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkspookystuff/pseuds/idkspookystuff
Summary: The first (and last) anthology of Dean/Rose fics.





	1. The Five Time Rose Was Jealous (and the One Time Dean Was Too)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lokithegodofsass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokithegodofsass/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Five Times Rory Was Jealous and The One Time Dean Was Too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046023) by [jayisokayy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayisokayy/pseuds/jayisokayy). 



> I fully expect that no one but my beloved [girlfriend](http://tveitball.tumblr.com) will ever read this. However, just in case you did stumble upon this and want to tackle this behemoth of Dean/Rose fics:
> 
> These fanfics are rewrites of a series Josie and I wrote in 2013/2014. It was based on a roleplay that we co-wrote, which was in its infamy at the time. All of my contributions to what was then dubbed "The Winchester (Pond) Gospels" can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/94511). I chose my favorites of this series to rewrite. Most are mine, though a few are Josie's rewritten in my style.
> 
> Rose is based VERY LOOSELY off of Rory Williams of Doctor Who acclaim. However, as she continued to grow, she ended up being nothing like Rory. They essentially share only a nationality. Rose is a transgirl in her mid-twenties or early thirties who is married to Dean and lives with him, Sam, and Kevin (Sam's husband) in the Men of Letters bunker. They have eight kids. I swear to God.
> 
> This is not meant to be taken seriously. However, I tried my darndest.
> 
> My Josie - As cringey as this shit is, I'm happy Dean and Rose brought us together. I hope you enjoy this grown-up version of Dean & Rose's relationship. And I hope, I pray to all that is good and holy, that these are the last Dean/Rose fics that ever exist.
> 
> <3 - [Sebastian](http://gorgeousdan.tumblr.com)

1.

Rose nursed a tequila between manicured fingers as she kept a close eye on her husband. Dean, clad in a pair of skinny jeans that he had laughed at when she gave them to him for his birthday (“Who do you think I am, Ro? You?”) and the jacket she had rarely ever seen him without, was on the other side of the bar, talking up a curly haired eighteen-year-old. He was helping Sam with a hunt and asked Rose to come to the bar with him as a cover-up. Though she didn’t like the idea of her husband hunting, she was always willing to help him in any way she could. Which, apparently, involved watching him tilting a twink’s head up to look at him with two fingers under his chin.

The bartender, probably ten years older than Rose and with electric pink hair, spoke up from behind her. “Ya know,” she started, wiping down a glass with a ratty looking rag. “I’ve seen many ‘a girl staring at him. You can do better, girlfriend.”

Rose looked back at the bartender with an eye roll. She felt bad; it wasn’t the poor girl’s fault that she was in a sour mood, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous at the sight of her husband leaning in closer to a blushing twink, even if it was to get information that could potentially leave the world a little better than they found it. “Get me another,” she said, dropping her glass on the bar. She looked over her shoulder at Dean again and added, “something stronger, maybe.”

The bartender nodded her approval. “You got it, girl.” With that, she disappeared to get Rose another drink.

Dean caught Rose’s eye from where he was talking up the twink. He said something else to the kid, passed him a card, then walked back over to Rose. He pulled her into a side hug when he got back, and his smell enveloped her. She loved everything about the way Dean smelled: like car oil, whiskey, cigarettes and something so undeniably  _ Dean _ that she got a little drunk off of it. “Hey, Ro,” he greeted.

“Hey,” she replied. “You got everything you needed for the case?”

“Yup,” Dean answered as he took a seat next to her. He turned to the bartender. “Could I get a whiskey on the rocks? Thanks, sweetheart.” Rose rolled her eyes from over her shoulder. Dean was famous for casually flirting with bartenders, but sometimes it made her blood boil a little bit. 

Dean turned back to Rose and focused his full attention on her. “Kid was super helpful. Confirmed everything Sammy said about the drownings, the disappearances, the-”

Rose cut Dean off with a kiss, pulling him in closer by the lapels of his jacket. One of Dean’s hands went to cup her cheek, the other fell to her hip, gripping her tight. He always kissed like that: like he would die if he couldn’t kiss her. Rose kissed back with just enough passion, pouring all of the jealousy into it, pressing claim to her husband.

When Rose pulled back, Dean smiled at her. “Not that I’m complainin’, babe, but what was that for?” Rose didn’t answer, but Dean followed her gaze to the twink in the corner. “You jealous, darlin’?”

Rose turned bright red. It seemed a little foolish to be jealous of some random twink when she considered the matching wedding bands on their fingers, thought of their home, their family, the life they’d created together. “No,” she answered.

Dean tsked and pulled her in close. “You ain’t got nothing to be jealous of,” he assured his wife as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’ll always be my girl.”

Rose smiled at that. The bartender came back with their drinks and put them on the bar in front of the couple. She looked between them like she wanted to say something but she didn’t. Rose looked back over her shoulder at the eighteen-year-old, who looked sheepish to have ever been flirting with Dean.

Rose pressed into her husband a little more as she took a sip of her drink. Yeah, she had nothing to worry about.

2.

Rose was sitting at a table in a Starbucks, writing a thesis paper for her marketing class when she noticed Dean chatting up the barista.

The barista looked strangely like her: a fellow blonde with a slim figure and a kind face. She giggled at something Dean said as she passed him their drinks. Dean had ordered something ungodly sweet, and Rose was ninety-eight percent sure she heard the barista say: “it’s as sweet as you, sugar.”

Rose rolled her eyes and tried to go back to writing her paper, but writing about market trends over the last fifty years wasn’t capturing her attention like watching her husband flirt with a barista was.

Dean came back to the table with their drinks and put Rose’s tea down in front of her. Rose didn’t look up from her paper as she took a sip and was suddenly hit with the sweetness of Dean’s mocha. “Ugh,” she started. “De, this is-”

Rose didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Her eyes fell to the cup, where she noticed the barista had taken the liberty to write her name (actually Mary Jo. Rose felt like she was living in some kind of an alternate reality) and her phone number.

Rose looked up at her husband and cocked a brow as she turned the cup for Dean to read. Dean, of course, rolled his eyes and took the cup from her. “Relax, Ro. I wasn’t gonna do anything about it. I just got some money off on this overpriced crap. That’s all.” When Rose didn’t stop glaring, he raised his hands defensively. “What?”

Rose sighed. “Nothing,” she answered as she went back to her thesis paper. This would be a conversation they had when she didn’t have a paper due.

3.

Dean looked good dressed up.

They were at one of Rose’s classmates’ wedding. She wasn’t really close to the girl (a fast-spoken blonde named Scarlet with three kids), but she helped to plan her wedding and felt bad not attending. Scarlet stood in the center of the dance floor, pressed close to her new husband (a short lawyer named Alexander), who was staring at her like she hung the stars in the sky. However, Rose wasn’t focused on them.

She was instead focused on her husband, who looked  _ unfairly _ good in a suit. The dark gray color complimented the rich tones in his skin beautifully, and the dark blue of the tie made his eyes light up. Rose had done an amazing job dressing him, as usual. Unfortunately, it seemed every girl in the building agreed with her.

Dean had a posse of around five girls around him, swaying to some feel-good pop song that was playing over the speakers. Rose was certain her husband had no idea what song it was (Dean’s song collection was limited to classic rock and songs that Sam had inadvertently turned him onto) but Rose was also sure he didn’t care. Dean was a natural flirt and an okay dancer when he was drunk, and these facts combined made him a fan favorite at parties.

Rose took a sip of the champagne in her hands. She caught Scarlet’s eye from the other side of the room. Scarlet gave her a little pitying look and Rose sighed. If there was something she hated more than anything, it was when people pitied her. She closed her eyes and took another sip of her drink, wishing there was something stronger available. 

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. Rose jumped and turned to face her assailant. It was just Dean, separated from his ensemble and holding out a hand towards her. “My lady,” he started teasingly. “May I have this dance?”

Rose hadn’t noticed, but the song had changed to something slow and romantic. From across the room, Alex was singing softly to Scarlet. It was cute. From here, Dean was looking at her with eager eyes. Equally as cute.

“Dunno,” Rose answered as she took another sip of her champagne. “Where’s your posse of girls?”

Dean rolled his eyes good-naturedly at her. “Don’t wanna dance with any of them,” he answered. “I wanna dance with you.”

Rose’s heart kind of melted at that. Dean wasn’t good at being romantic and he wasn’t one to show his emotions (a product of a shitty childhood via John Winchester), but he had moments that made Rose especially soft for him. This was one of those moments.

Rose put her drink down and took Dean’s hand. He led the two of them to the dance floor and pulled her close, his arms falling around her waist. She rested her hands on his shoulders (he was too tall to properly get them around his neck) and leaned her head against his chest. She was enveloped by Dean; his hands were hot on her hips, his smell wrapped her up like a blanket and she could hear his steady heartbeat against her ear as they swayed together. “I love you a lot, De.”

Dean leaned down and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “I love you too,” he answered, whispered it into her hair like a secret meant only for her to hear.

Rose broke into a gentle smile. She really did love him.

4.

Rose was curled into Dean’s side, her legs tangled with his, their fingers intertwined. They had a cup of vegan ice cream between them (bought begrudgingly by Dean, who complained that she wasn’t going to eat it anyway). Rose hadn’t eaten a lot of it but Dean had; sharing food with Dean always meant he got most of it. It was some combination of growing up poor and growing up with a giant like Sam. 

Dean dipped his spoon into the ice cream again, getting a rather large chunk. He held it toward Rose, whose eyebrow raised with a teasing glint. She moved forward so that she was a little far removed from him and wrapped her lips around the spoon. She held it there for a moment longer than necessary, letting off a breathy little moan as her eyes locked with Dean’s. His eyes narrowed as she pulled back and gave him a self-satisfied smirk. 

“You think you’re cute, Williams?” Dean asked, leaning in close to her.

Rose took another bite just to spite him. “Au contraire. I _ know _ I’m cute, Winchester.”

Dean let out a mocking chuckle as he pressed a kiss to the side of Rose’s head. He untangled himself from her and got up, approached the counter where a twinky college student had been staring at Dean since they walked in. Rose hadn’t thought Dean noticed but apparently he had.

Dean turned his full affections on the kid, who turned bright red in response. Rose couldn’t hear what was said, but she could tell from his posture (leaned over the counter, head in his hands) that Dean was flirting  _ hard _ . 

Eventually, the kid gave Dean a cone and he turned back to sit next to Rose. Before Rose could even say anything, Dean wrapped his lips around the cone in a loose impression of a blowjob, keeping eye contact with the twink behind the counter. The kid turned bright red to the tips of his ears as the ice cream melted in Dean’s mouth, running down his wrists and disappearing under his jacket. The kid only looked away when snapped out of his trance by a rather pissed off looking mother and her toddler son.

Dean took a bite of the cone and smirked over at Rose. Checkmate.

5.

A little known Dean Winchester fun fact: he loved to cook.

It was something that he had to learn out of necessity at a very young age. Their dad was gone a lot, and Sammy got tired of having dry cereal every night. At first, it was simple things: Spaghettios, mac and cheese, Eggos. Eventually, though, Dean branched out: trying different things in their grilled cheese, making pancakes from scratch for his little brother, adding spices and sauces and anything he could to stretch the small amount of money their dad left them into a culinary adventure. 

For his birthday, Rose had given him a recipe book and Dean cherished the thing. It turns out, he had never looked up a recipe, everything he learned having been either through trial and error or leftover from previous girlfriends. On rare days off, Dean was oft found in the kitchen, hunched over the book, trying to get his portions just right so the food tasted amazing. 

When Rose woke up from her nap, she was instantly greeted by the smell of food wafting from their kitchen. She stretched in bed and then stood, her socked feet padding across the floor. She waved to Sam, who sat in the library with a book open, taking notes on something.

“Hey Sam,” she greeted, taking a seat across from him. Sam barely looked up from what he was reading, though he did grunt in acknowledgment. When Sam was in research mode, it was hard for anyone but Dean to break him out of it. “Is Dean in the kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Hasn’t left for a while. Said he was workin’ on a new recipe. Chicken Marsala.”

Though Rose was a vegan, she still appreciated her husband’s recipes. Sometimes, she even indulged herself, though she always felt bad for the animals afterward. “I’m gonna go check up on him,” she said as she stood from the table.

Sam waved a hand vaguely. “Have fun.”

Rose walked into the kitchen where Dean was leaned over a pot, stirring something. She came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head falling against his lower back. He hummed in acknowledgment, continuing to stir. He took the spoon and dipped it in the sauce before he turned to her. “Try it, Ro.”

“I can’t,” Rose protested weakly. “It’s got meat.”

Dean rolled his eyes which, fair point, Rose was a pretty shit vegan. She sipped the sauce, the flavor coating her tongue and her throat. She moaned in appreciation and Dean smirked. “I know it’s good.” He checked her hip gently. “Now leave me alone. I’m tryna cook.”

Rose frowned. “But I wanna spend time with you.”

“Later,” Dean answered, not even looking at her. Rose felt her cheeks burn bright red as she backed away from Dean.

“Fine!” she said, her whole face hot. “You’d rather spend time with some chicken dish instead of your wife? Great. That’s great, Dean. Have fun!”

Rose turned on her heels and stormed out of the room, ignoring Dean calling after her and Sam getting up from the table to follow. She could hear Sam say, “wait, is this about the chicken Marsala?” as she slammed the door, but she didn’t give a shit. She sat on the bed and curled herself into a ball, hugging Dean’s pillow to her chest.

“Rose!” Dean shouted as he pounded at the door. “Rose!”

“Go away!” Rose screamed at her husband from their bed.

Dean sighed. When he spoke again, his words were much softer. “Come on, Ro. I just wanna talk.” 

Rose crossed the room and pushed open the door. Dean pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you a lot, Rose,” he whispered to her. “I would rather spend time with you, not a chicken dish.” 

Rose felt a little stupid for being jealous of a chicken, but she didn’t say anything about it. Dean pulled away from the hug and grabbed her hand. “C’mon,” he said. “Come help me. I’m a little useless by myself anyway.”

+1

It was on a rare occasion Rose ever got drunk.

There were a few types of drunk Roses. There was the sexual one, who trailed her fingers dangerously low on Dean’s thigh in public and made Sammy raise an eyebrow. There was the one that came out exclusively at weddings, who cried about how beautiful love is and made long sappy speeches. There was the sad one, who curled up under blankets when dysphoria got too bad and stayed there until Dean came to get her. And then there was Dean’s favorite: flirty, dancing drunk Rose.

Rose had dragged Dean to a club crawling with millennials. Clubs weren’t exactly Dean’s speed (he would much rather go to a bar than a room with thumping, crappy pop music) but it made Rose happy and Dean was a little bit soft for his wife. Dean was sat at a bar, nursing a drink in his hands as he watched his wife dance in a crowd of girls.

Dean watched as a tall guy with messy, brown hair approached Rose. Dean couldn’t hear what they said, but he did see the guy wrap an arm around Rose’s waist and pull her close. She was drunk, and so she went with him, the two of them grinding together. Dean felt his blood boil and he stood, intending to give the guy a piece of his mind.

At that moment, Rose caught Dean’s eye. As drunk as she was, she didn’t understand the rage evident on her husband’s face. She said one last thing to the tall messy-haired brunette before she crossed the room. Dean sat down again and she plopped down in his lap.

“Hi,” Rose said with a drunken giggle as she pressed a kiss into his hair. “I love you.”

Dean felt all the anger leave his body immediately. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, glaring at the tall guy across the club once more.

Rose dropped her face against Dean’s chest and he smiled. There was no reason to be jealous.


	2. Not Déjà Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose watches Dean get stabbed in front of her. Then, she wakes up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was perhaps the most different from the original Winchester-Pond Gospel fics and also the hardest to write. I just really didn't want Dean to get hit by a car.
> 
> Inspired by [Not Déjà Vu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090163)
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: transphobic language, graphic depictions of violent, major character death

_ “It was the heat of the moment!” _

Rose shot awake to the sound of the radio blasting music. She pressed a hand to her heaving chest and took a deep breath. She looked around at the room, which looked different in the bright light of the morning. It was a disaster - the bed was completely unmade save for the sheet she held against her body, clothes thrown throughout the room haphazardly. The room was on the ground floor; Rose crossed and closed the curtain before anyone could see. The motel seemed shady enough, but she really didn’t want to give anyone walked past the parking lot a show.

Rose pressed a hand to her head to get rid of the pounding headache. Drinking so much red wine on date night was a bad idea that led to the two of them getting a hotel room, calling Sam to ask him if he and Kevin could stay over with the kids. Rose couldn’t remember most of that conversation, but she was almost positive she was going to have to get him a really good Christmas present to make up for the things Dean said.

As if on cue, Dean walked into the room with two cups of coffee. “You’re awake.” He handed a cup to Rose and she took a long sip. “Thought I broke you.”

“Shut up,” Rose admonished. She rolled her eyes and lazily tossed a pillow at her husband. He caught it easily: hunter instincts. He watched as Rose crossed the room, the sheet still held firm around her body with one hand, and looked in the full-length mirror that stood opposite their bed. She was a mess: her hair was all over the place, she still had makeup streaked on her face and all visible skin from her neck down was littered with dark purple hickeys. 

Dean came up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Beautiful girl,” he whispered as he pressed another gentle kiss to her neck. Rose smiled at that and turned in his arms. 

“Why are you awake?” she asked.

Dean shrugged. That probably meant he couldn’t sleep. Rose frowned; Dean’s insomnia ran deep and they still hadn’t figured out a way for him to get a full night’s sleep. Of course, he would never admit to this. It was more of an unspoken truth. “Scouted the place out,” he answered instead. “Found a cute little diner. Wanna have some breakfast before we hit the road?”

Rose kissed his cheek. “Shower first. Then, we eat.”

A half hour later, Dean and Rose were standing outside a sickening blue tiled diner with sporadically blinking letters reading ‘ _ John’s Family Diner _ ’. Rose pulled her sweater tighter as she leaned into Dean. “Kind of ironic, innit?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he answered. He led Rose inside, where they were seated by a middle-aged woman with messy brown hair and a crumbled skirt. She gave Dean a flirty smile as she handed them their menus. Dean, of course, didn’t notice. “Hey Ro,” he pointed to the board to their left. “Pig ‘n a poke.”

Rose followed his gaze to the board, which had a cartoon pig with the words ‘ _ PIG ‘N A POKE _ ’ written in capital letters in the pig’s stomach. ‘ _ $3.99 WITH TOAST AND HASHBROWNS _ .’ Rose turned back to her husband. “Do you even know what that means?”

Dean stuck out his tongue at his wife. Before she could answer, their waitress came back. She had a name tag now, quickly scribbled on in capital letters. Her name, apparently, was Doreen. “What could I do for you two?” 

Dean turned to Rose. “Ladies first,” he teased.

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’ll just have a cup of green tea, thank you.” Rose handed her menu back to Doreen, who looked a little crestfallen at the easy flirting between Dean and Rose.

Doreen tapped her pen on a notepad as she turned to Dean. “I’ll have the special, side of bacon, scrambled eggs and a coffee,” his menu fell closed with a loud _ snap _ ! “Black.” He shot Doreen an easy smile as she finished scribbling. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Doreen walked away and Rose tangled her legs with his under the table. “We should check on Sam and Kevin to see how they’re getting on with the kids.” She pulled out her phone as she spoke. “I feel bad for leaving them alone.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Don’t,” he answered. “If Kev’s gonna be a pediatrician, he’s gotta learn to deal with kids.” He knocked a foot against Rose’s ankle. “‘sides, I’m sure they got on fine without us.”

Rose shrugged as she shot off a text to Sam. He replied within minutes.

**ROSE**   
hey!! sorry for ditching you with the kids   
how are they?

**SAM**   
Hey Rose! I was wondering when you’d wake up.   
The kids are good. Ana and Clara fell asleep with Puppy last night. [PICTURE]

The picture is of Ana and Clara (their six year old twins) cuddled up with Puppy (a giant golden retriever named by Rose). Rose smiled at the picture and looked up at her husband. “Sam sent a pict-”

“Here we are,” Doreen interrupted as she came back with a tray balanced precariously on one hand. “The special,” she said as she placed three plates down in front of Dean. Rose could practically see his mouth watering. “And for the lady-”

As if in slow motion, Doreen’s hand slipped and she dropped the cup of tea at Rose’s feet. It shattered, liquid pooling at Rose and Dean’s feet. “Oh crap!” Doreen swore. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s no worry,” Dean assured her, although the look he shared with Rose suggested otherwise.

Rose leaned across the table and took a sip of Dean’s coffee, bitter with nothing in it. This was going to be a long day.

After breakfast, Dean and Rose trekked across the parking lot to Dean’s car. The parking lot was a little seedy, so Rose stood pressed close to Dean, her sweater pulled tight against her body, his arm around her shoulders. “I’m telling you Ro, you really missed out with that bacon.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m a vegan,” she reminded Dean for the millionth time.

Before Dean could reply, a man bumped Rose’s shoulder. “Watch it, you fuckin’ tranny,” he muttered under his breath as he walked by. Rose tensed; her muscles contracting under Dean’s hand. 

Dean, ever the attentive hunter, noticed. “What the fuck did you say?”

The guy turned around, and it was only then that Rose got a good look at him. He was big, almost as tall as Dean, with large muscles and an intimidating face. A scar across his forehead suggested this may not be the first fight he’d ever picked. “Told your boyfriend to watch where the fuck he’s going.” 

Dean’s hand dropped from Rose’s shoulder. Rose watched as he balled it into a fist at his side. “You call her a guy one more time, I fuckin’ dare you.”

“Dean, please,” Rose said gently. She grabbed him loosely by the wrist. Dean didn’t move.

“Yeah,  _ Dean _ ,” the guy sneered. “Better listen to your boy-”

The guy didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Dean punched him in the face. Rose tried to pull Dean off of the guy, but he was much taller and stronger than her. Rose watched on in horror as the guy pulled out a knife that Dean didn’t notice. She tried to call out, but it was too late; the man plunged the knife forward into Dean’s chest, deep, before he pulled it out. Dean staggered backwards and fell on the ground as the man ran off, knife and all.

“Dean,” Rose dropped to her knees beside her husband, her eyes teary. Dean reached up towards her and shakily grabbed her hand. “Help!” Rose called, but it was to no avail. The parking lot was empty. “Someone help me!”

Dean reached up and put a shaking hand to Rose’s cheek. “Rose,” he said softly. Rose rested her hand on Dean’s forearm and smiled down at him sadly. Dean returned her smile before his eyes fell closed, his hand dropping from her cheek.

“Dean.” Rose panicked, gathering both of Dean’s hands and holding them to her heart. “Dean, come on. This isn’t funny. Dean.” Her hands were shaking as she dropped her head to Dean’s chest, where he wasn’t breathing and she couldn’t hear his heartbeat. “Dean!”

_ “It was the heat of the moment!” _

Rose sat up with a quick gasp and found herself alone in their motel room. The radio was blaring next to her head, the window wide open, the bright sun streaming through and into her eyes. She was naked still, and her head was pounding. She grabbed the sheet over her body and ran her fingers through it. There was no blood on her hands; it was like the events of the past day had never happened. 

Rose stood on shaky feet and closed the blinds. She looked around the room, where she noticed the same, full-length mirror across from the bed. She grabbed the sheet and wrapped it around her body, looked at herself in the mirror. She was covered in hickeys, her hair a less. She reached a hand out and touched the mirror, watched as her reflection mimicked her.

Rose was broken out of her trance when Dean walked through the door, a cup of coffee in either hand. “You’re awake.” He held out a cup towards Rose, who just stared at his reflection in the mirror in shock. “Thought I broke you.”

Rose ran over to Dean and pulled him into a crushing hug that knocked the air out of him. Dean slowly wrapped his arms around his wife, still holding the coffees. “Hey,” he greeted slowly. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

Rose pulled back to look over her husband. He was perfectly fine, just like he had been that morning, like he had never gotten hurt in the first place. “You were dead,” Rose breathed out. “How? What? I watched you die. How are you okay?”

Dean put the coffee cups down on the dresser next to him and pulled Rose into a tighter hug. “It was just a nightmare,” he assured her with gentle caresses to her hair.

Rose was shaking. It didn’t make sense, but somehow the previous day had never happened. Perhaps it really was a dream. The memories already seemed so far gone, as if they had occurred in the first place. “I guess,” she answered quietly. “I guess it was a nightmare.” 

“Of course it was.” Dean pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Now come on. Get dressed. Found a cute little diner. Wanna get some breakfast before we hit the road?”

Rose couldn’t help but feel weird about it, but she shook off the feeling. “Sure,” she answered. “Shower first.”

As she walked into the bathroom, she took one last look over her shoulder at the bedroom, at Dean sitting in the middle of the bed on his phone.

Déjà vu indeed.


	3. It's Christmas, Dean Winchester! (or Rose's Three Failed-ish Attempts to Make Dean a Little Less "Bah Humbug")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas time, and Dean isn't very far removed from Scrooge. Rose is determined to make this Christmas the best one ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, I wrote three Dean/Rose fanfics before Josie wrote one. This is the finale of that trilogy.
> 
> I know I said the last one was the least similar, but I severely underestimated how much I'd have to change this to have it even make sense. New to this edition: Ana and Clara, who were previously six unnamed children; Sam and Kevin, whose relationship I LOVE writing; and a description of Rose's outfit. I really embraced my inner Wattpad writer here.
> 
> Things that are similar: Dean shooting a snowman. I said in the original Dean was very close to shooting a snowman. I really wanted that to happen in this one.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this strange little slice of life. I really wish all my old Dean/Rose fics were Sam/Kevin fics. That would have made this a lot easier.

1.) 

Rose, as usual, is fucking pumped about Christmas.

No matter how long they’re together, Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to just how excited his wife becomes when the holiday season rolls around. She’s always humming Christmas songs in November, breaks out her legions of ugly Christmas sweaters as soon as the month turns, makes Christmas cookies and gingerbread houses - the whole nine yards really.

Dean isn’t all bah humbug. He eats most of Rose’s Christmas cookies, thumbs the fabric of her sweaters between his fingers, even likes some Christmas songs. AC/DC has Christmas music, so it ain’t so bad. 

Except Christmases just weren’t special for him as a kid. His dad never let him believe in Santa Clause, and every Christmas as a kid was spent trying to make Sammy happy, give him a normal life. He hasn’t had a special Christmas since his mom died in that house fire when Sam was just six months old.

Rose, after learning this, obviously wants to make  _ this _ Christmas special for her husband. Which is what leads her to the bunker’s library, where Sam and Kevin are sitting shoulder to shoulder, reading from an ancient, dusty book. “Please,” she begs Sam, who barely even looks up from his book to acknowledge her. “Just distract him for a few hours. That’s all it’ll take.”

“It’s not worth it, Ro,” Sam answers. “Dean’s the Grinch. He’ll end up shooting an inflatable snowman. Trust me; I tried to decorate for him all the time when we were kids. He’s just not into Christmas.”

Rose’s heart swells at the idea of little Sam in a motel, trying to make his older brother happy with Christmas decorations. That just cements the idea in her head more - this is something she absolutely has to do. “I know Dean,” she says. Sam scoffs, which, fair enough. There’s probably no one that knows Dean as well as his younger brother does.

“Kev,” Rose says to Sam’s boyfriend, who has been silent up to now.

Kevin looks up. “Oh, come on, don’t make me get in the middle of this.” Rose gives Kevin a pleading look and he sighs, turning to Sam. “I mean,” he starts. “That was a while ago. Maybe Dean will like it now?”

Sam looks up at Kevin, who gives Sam a look that melts him. It’s good to know both the Winchester men are susceptible to puppy dog eyes. “Fine,” Sam sighs dramatically. He turns to Rose. “Does Friday work?”

Sam takes Dean out at around eight on Friday morning on a hunt and Rose goes to town. She covers the entire bunker in lights, garland, gets a tree and puts it up. She turns the front of the bunker into a winter wonderland, with inflatables, the favorite of which is a nine-foot-tall inflatable snowman that takes Rose an hour to put up. It’s a labor of love, but by the entire bunker is decked out for Christmas by the time she hears the familiar roar of Dean’s Baby.

Rose hangs the mistletoe from the doorway as she hears the Impala doors slam open and close. She adjusts her Christmas sweater (it’s bright purple with a cartoon cat - it says “ _ Meow-y Christmas _ ”; a gift from Kevin) and waits for her husband to walk through with a childlike awe in his eyes. 

That doesn’t happen. Instead, she hears two gunshots in rapid succession. 

Rose runs outside, expecting the worst. The first thing she sees is her husband, thankfully unscathed, wielding a gun. She sees Sam next, standing next to Dean, the both of them looking bewildered at something. She follows their gazes to her beloved inflatable snowman, lying dead on the floor with two bullet holes in his stomach.

When Rose turns to face Dean, he looks horribly guilty. “Dean!” she whines.

“What the hell?!” Dean yells back at her. “You coulda gotten me killed!”

Sam huffs out a laugh. He kneels down next to the inflatable and picks up its head. “It was an inflatable snowman, Scrooge. Chill out.” 

Dean locks his car and sticks his gun in his back pocket as if he’s afraid he’ll have to kill Santa himself upon entering the bunker. He walks in with Sam and Rose in tow and looks around. Sam seems impressed at how much Rose has been able to do. Dean, on the other hand, picks at a light and turns back to Rose. “You did all this?”

Rose smiles sheepishly from where she’s standing slightly behind Sam. “It’s Christmas, Charlie Brown!”

Dean looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s cut off by Ana and Clara running up to him with joint calls of “daddy!” and “Merry Christmas!” Dean scoops them both up under either arm and presses kisses to their foreheads. He raises an eyebrow at Rose, who mouths ‘just try and enjoy it,” at him.

2.) 

Rose is curled into Dean’s side, a bowl of popcorn between them, their legs intertwined in a mismatched pattern. At their feet: Ana and Clara, who are cuddling under a giant blanket. Dean’s flips through the channels, aimlessly looking for something for the four of them to watch. He settles on a football game and, after realizing that he’s not going to change it, the twins and Rose groan in sync. Sometimes, Dean is afraid of how similar they are.

“What?” Dean asks. “It’s exciting. Right, Ana?”

Ana, who’s Dean’s double, looks less than amused at the football game. Clara turns to her parents and pouts at them from behind curly blonde hair. “Daddy,” she whines. “We wanna watch Christmas movies!”

Dean turns to Rose as if she’s going to defend him. Ever a child at heart, she pouts back at him. Dean sighs; he really is too soft for his girls. “Fine,” he groans as he keeps flipping through the channels until he eventually lands on Rudolf the Rednosed Reindeer. 

The twins turn immediately silent as they settle into the movie. Dean shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth in protest. Rose curls further into him and presses a fleeting kiss to his jawline. “You’re the best,” she mutters, low enough that Dean can barely hear her over the music.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean huffs, but he can’t help but feel a little bit happier as he looks at his little family.

3.) 

It’s late at night and dark outside as Rose sits waiting up for her husband.

Sam had come back the day before, but Dean called and said there was something that he needed to finish up before he could come home. Rose doesn’t ask about his job (honestly, the realities her husband of hunting monsters sometimes gives her nightmares) but now she really wishes she had. She’s concerned for how long he’s taking to come home, and she has a surprise for him.

Underneath her robe is an elf costume she’d secretly ordered off the Internet a few weeks ago. It consists of a short skirt that barely grazes the top of her thighs, fishnets decorating her legs, red pumps that she has crossed under herself on their bed. On top: a corset that had been a bitch to lace up herself but that made her waist look synched and tiny. There’s a hat as well, but she doesn’t have it on. 

Rose leans towards the window, hoping to see Dean’s Baby rolling down the long, winding road to their bunker when Kevin pokes his head in. “Hey Ro,” he says when he realizes she isn’t asleep. He crosses the room and sits on the edge of her bed. “I don’t think he’s coming home tonight, baby.”

Both he and Sam know how antsy Rose gets when Dean is on hunts, especially when it’s one like this where he doesn’t communicate much. Rose offers Kevin a sad smile. “I’m just gonna stay up for a little while longer,” she says. “You go to sleep. I’ll be fine, promise.” 

Kevin reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “K,” he answers. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he stands. “I love you. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“I love you too. Goodnight.” Rose watches as Kevin crosses the room and walks out, gently shutting the door behind him. 

It’s a while before Dean comes back, and Rose is almost asleep when she hears the Impala roll into their driveway. Rose shoots awake and unties her robe, leaving it hanging from her sides as she makes her way to the door. It takes Dean a minute to get out of his car, but eventually, the door creaks open and Dean walks through, looking tired as hell.

Dean doesn’t have a chance to look at Rose before she launches herself at him, wrapping him in a hug. Dean hugs her back, buries his face in her hair. “Hey,” he greets, his voice rough and deep like he’s been through hell. “God, Ro. Missed you so much,” he admits.

Rose closes her eyes and inhales, taking in the scent of alcohol and motor oil and something so inherently  _ Dean _ that she always gets a little bit drunk on it. “I missed you too,” she answers.

Dean pulls back from the hug and steps back a little to take Rose in. As he does, his eyes grow wide in shock. “Oh my god,” is all he manages to say after a solid ten seconds of silence. 

Rose breaks into a smile; she can’t help it. “Do you like it?” she asks, letting the robe fall from around her shoulders.

“ _ Jesus _ , Rose.” Dean pulls her robe up and ties it again. “Has anyone seen you wearin’ this?” Rose’s smile falls as she shakes her head. “Where the hell did you even buy a fuckin’ slutty elf costume?”

Rose looks down at her hands, and chips at one manicured nail. “Bought it online,” she answers quietly. She feels more stupid as the minutes go on. “Thought you might like it.”

Rose looks up just in time to see Dean’s face soften. “Hey,” he says, his voice quiet. “How about this? You get changed and we go to bed. And then on another day, you bring this outfit out and I’ll show you just how much I like you in it. Deal?”

Rose nods. “Deal,” she answers. Dean wraps an arm around her shoulders and walks Rose to the bedroom slowly, so as not to trip her in her heels. As he turns back, he takes in the twinkling lights, the tree in the center of the room, the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. He presses a gentle kiss to Rose’s head and smiles easily.

Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original: [It's Christmas, Dean Winchester!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117275)


	4. Sick Days & Soaps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose gets sick and Dean takes care of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a bit of a confession to make.
> 
> I originally set out to rewrite Josie's Dean/Rose fics, and then I reread hers and realized they're genuinely not bad. I don't know if this is me being her biased boyfriend, but I found it genuinely hard to improve upon one without copying her entire plot in my style. However, I figured I had to include at least one Josie fic, so here it is: the first of Josie's Dean/Rose fics, Sick Days and Soaps.
> 
> This is the last one I rewrote. I hope you've appreciated this anthology.
> 
> Josie - I love you a lot. Thanks for not writing bad Dean/Rose fics.
> 
> \- Seb <3

Dean was awoken by the sound of his wife leaving the bed, her feet padding along the wooden floor of their bedroom as she walked towards the bathroom and closed the door behind herself.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked at the time. It was eight in the morning, which wouldn’t be early for anyone aside from Rose, who liked to use her weekend to catch up on sleep she lost from school and work. The fact that she was awake either meant she had work to do (unlikely; he would have heard her complaining about it the night before) or something was wrong.

Dean waited a second to see if Rose would come back to bed on her own. When she didn’t, he sat up. He wondered if it was weird to try and talk to his wife when she was in the bathroom, but they were close enough. “Ro?” he called. “Ro!”

Rose emerged from the bathroom on shaky legs. Her whole body was pale and she was sweating, but she was shivering like she was freezing cold. Her hair was plastered to her face and her eyes were glazed over. She looked, in short, like a disaster. “Rose,  _ Jesus _ .” Dean crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You look like death.”

“Thanks,” Rose muttered, her voice hoarse. “That’s what every girl wants to hear.” She groaned as she took a shaky step and collapsed back into Dean’s arms. “I feel like shit.”

Dean walked Rose to the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. He kissed her head gently and started to walk out, only to be stopped by Rose’s loose grip on his wrist. “Where are you going?” she asked.

Dean squeezed her hand gently. “I’m goin’ to make you breakfast. I’ll be back.” Rose dropped his wrist, her own hand coming to rest on her chest. She seemed so out of it that Dean wasn’t completely sure she was aware of anything. 

Dean passed by the twins’ room and made sure they were still asleep (they were, soundly; he was pretty sure Ana was even snoring a little bit) before he walked into the kitchen and turned the light on. It was then that he realized the fatal flaw with his plan; Dean could cook, but he wasn’t a five-star chef. His meals were good, but they certainly weren’t always mouthwatering, and he realized he was kind of hopeless when it came to cooking up meals on the spot without a plan. 

Dean dug through their pantry, looking for a can of soup. He eventually found a can of vegan potato soup with a pink sticky note that read “Kevin’s”. Dean pulled the label off and threw it in the trash, muttering “sorry, Kev,” as he did. He poured the soup into a pot and lit the stove, watching as it looked. Almost as an afterthought, he made Rose a cup of green tea. 

As Dean stirred the soup, he thought back on the times he’d had to do this before. Sammy rarely got sick as a kid, and when he did, John often told him to suck it up, Dean sneaking him cups of soup when their dad wasn’t looking. Dean never got sick and, luckily, the twins seemed to have the same trait. All in all, he could count the times he had to care for someone who was sick on one hand. As he poured the tea into a mug and got a bowl for the soup, he just hoped he wasn’t about to screw this up.

When Dean walked back to their bedroom, Rose was sitting up a bit, flipping through channels on the television that Dean had set up across from the bed. “Here’s your breakfast,” Dean announced. He put it down on the dresser next to Rose’s head (she smiled in appreciation) and settled in next to her, the covers pulling tighter around her neck as he did. “Watcha doin’?”

Rose wrangled her hands free with great effort. “Channel surfing,” she answered. She grabbed the mug of tea and took a sip as she continued. “But it’s all crap.”

Dean hummed in agreement, content to watch his wife shuffle through the channels. Eventually, though, he caught a glimpse of something. “Wait,” he said, watching as Rose stopped on a news channel. “Go back.” 

Rose flipped back and their screen filled with  _ Dr. Sexy M.D _ . Rose gave Dean a weird look. “You’re joking right?” When Dean didn’t answer - just kept staring straight ahead at the screen, Rose had to hold back laughter. “You really want to watch a stupid hospital soap opera?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “It’s not stupid, Rose,” he defended as Dr. Sexy attempted to find a diagnosis shirtless. “It’s got everything. Drama, action-”

“Sexy shirtless doctors,” Rose teased.

Dean elbowed her shoulder gently. “Be quiet and eat your soup.” 

Rose said nothing more as she enjoyed her soup and watched the show through her husband’s eyes. She tried not to choke on laughter when Dean audibly reacted to the twists and turns (if they could even be called that) in the episode. By the time it finished, Rose had finished off her soup and was dozing gently under the covers. 

“Wow, poor Nurse Wang,” Dean lamented when the episode ended. He turned off the television before dropping his head against Rose’s legs, startling her awake. Rose brought her hand to Dean’s hair and ran her fingers through it. “How you feeling?”

Rose shrugged. “A little better,” she answered truthfully. Dean smiled up at her. “Hey De? I have a question.”

“Yeah?” Dean answered. He looked like he was falling a sleep a bit under Rose’s gentle ministrations. 

Rose stifled a giggle as she asked, “why don’t you ever call me Dr. Sexy?” She managed to keep a straight face for all of ten seconds before she burst into hysterical laughter, only broken up by a coughing fit.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up and go back to sleep.” He tried to stand up, but was stopped by Rose’s hand wrapping around his wrist lazily.

“Stay with me?”

Dean considered. He had a lot to do; he and Sam were researching a case and the twins would be up eventually. But Rose looked so soft and warm, and he was always a bit of a sucker for puppy dog eyes anyway. He sighed and got under the blanket. Rose curled into his side and fell asleep with a soft smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [Sick Days and Soaps](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127416)

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [The Five Times Rory Was Jealous (And the One Time Dean was Too)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046023)


End file.
